Page 31 of Second Chance Vacation

“To the happy couple.” I grin, pulling the champagne flute to my lips.

Looking over at Wes, I see the face of a man who is filled with pure, unadulterated joy. Despite the happiness I feel for him, I can’t help the drop in my stomach as I take in the surrounding scene. Everyone is so filled with excitement, but I sit here taking in the view from a different vantage point.

Alone.

I haven’t thought about marriage much. My life is prioritized around my career, and I’ve always felt like love would fall into place once everything is sorted. I have planned for a successful life, an incredible career, but as I look out over quite possibly the most beautiful view I would ever see, watching my best friend get engaged, sitting next to the only woman I have ever loved—I find myself overwhelmed with one certain feeling: loneliness.

And I hate myself for it.

THIRTEEN

GEN

As much as I am ecstatic for Wesley and Savannah, this is just about the last thing I want to be doing. I’ll admit, seeing the sunset from atop a cliff is unlike anything I have ever experienced. Hiking back down to town in the pitch black, however, is among my worst nightmares.

My eyes work to adjust to the darkness, the expanse of pine trees filling my view. The sound of bugs chirping swarms my senses as Wesley finally pulls out his phone to use as a flashlight.

“Your phone had charge the whole time?” Jackson’s voice cuts through the darkness, his annoyance clear. I didn’t bring my phone, and Jackson’s died halfway through our hike earlier because he wouldn’t stop taking pictures of birds along the trail. I didn’t see the point of bringing a phone that didn’t have service set up locally since we wouldn’t be anywhere near WiFi. Now, I realize the flaw in that logic.

“I’d rather have my cell in case of an emergency, thanks.” Wesley matches Jackson’s irritation. “Besides, it looks like we’re about to reach the bottom clearing.”

Finally.

Whether because of my excitement or my lack of a sense of my surroundings, I realize I have made a grave mistake.

Motherfuckerassdamnitshitsonofabitch.

My ass hits the dirt abruptly as I instinctively reach for my ankle, which is now throbbing. The searing pain shoots up my leg, leaving me with spotted vision. I have never broken a bone, but I am inclined to think it is this kind of pain. The debilitating, all-encompassing kind of pain.

“Are you okay?” Jackson is now on his knees next to me, trying to move my hand from my ankle.

“Do I look okay?!” I swat at his hands to no avail.

“Stop—stop.”

“Stop touching me!” I flail my arms, smacking his arm at his incessant attempts at checking out my injury.

The throbbing pain is now venturing into stabbing territory, and I am convinced it’s time. It’s over. I’m done. I’m going to die in a remote wooded area on the southern coast of France, thousands of miles from home. I have lived a full life, or at least moderately so. I am a college-educated twenty-six-year-old, and I mold young minds. I have made my mark.

“Oh, stop being a baby. Let me look.” Jackson grasps my ankle. Somehow, the pressure eases some of the pain. I still instinctually wince. “Hey Wes, you wanna come look at this? It’s not obviously broken, but I want to be sure.”

The flashlight of Wes’s phone now blinds me, leaving speckles floating in my view. As he shifts the light from my face to my ankle, I am relieved.

“Just a sprain. It’ll hurt to walk on, but it’s not broken.”

I hear my reaction as if I’m experiencing it as a bystander. The pained whimper that leaves my lips is borderline humiliating. I’m sitting here in excruciating pain over a sprained ankle.

“Can you try to stand?” Wesley says as he reaches out his hand. I grab it in an instant. As soon as I put weight on my ankle, I instantly hit the ground once more. The yelp that escapes my lips is that of pure agony.

“Shit. Uhhh, you’re going to need to rest it. Jackson, can you carry her?”

Ha,absolutely not. I pin Jackson with a glare. He reaches to grab me, but I yank my arm away from his range.

“Gen, stop being difficult.” The annoyance drips off of Jackson’s words.

“I’m not being difficult. You’re just not going to be carrying me. I can walk. Just give me a minute.”

Wes looks at Savannah, clearly unsure of what to do or say. My crisis is now dulling the excitement of the day. I feel terrible.

---